


Damn It, Saiyaman

by SatuD2



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Great Saiyaman Saga, Heist, Pre-Relationship, Robbery, Salty, rant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11062671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatuD2/pseuds/SatuD2
Summary: Videl Satan is getting sick of this gallivanting costumed weirdo interrupting her crime scenes. What a pain in the butt he's turning out to be. It's time she had serious words with this 'Great Saiyaman'.





	Damn It, Saiyaman

**Author's Note:**

> For the r/fanfiction's May Challenge, 3 word edition :)

Videl pushed her fringe out of her eyes and glared at the costumed young man who was gallivanting by the police line. He was dancing and prancing back and forth, his long green cape spinning around him. She could hear the crunching of the shattered glass under his white boots. What a fool he looked. What an absolute knob. How _dare_ he intrude on her crime-scene like this?

Her irritation couldn’t be contained anymore. She strode out of the bank with her hands curled in tight fists and fury glinting like steel in her eyes.

“Excuse me, Mr Sousaphone, could you go home, please? I’m trying to secure the scene.”

The young man stopped dancing as soon as he heard her voice. Was that the slightest hint of red beneath the tinted visor of his mask? No of course not. That would be ridiculous.

“My name is Saiyaman,” he said awkwardly. Scuffed his feet. Even put his hands behind his back. What was he, five? It would almost be adorable if he weren’t so irritating.

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushed past him. Felt the briefest spark of electricity as their arms touched. Refused to acknowledge it. “Just go home, Safari-Man.”

“It’s Saiyaman.”

“Miss Satan! Miss Satan!” Flashing cameras and clamouring journalists. Waving microphones towards her, reaching pointlessly over barriers to try and get the clearest image of her face, the best recording of her voice. No doubt by tomorrow there would photos plastered all over the trashy tabloids, feeding the obsession this city had with the Satan family.

She ignored them. Whirled back to glare at the young man standing awkwardly by the police tape.

“Listen, Sushi-man, you need to get out of here. Okay? The police called _me_. They didn’t ask for a superhero wannabe in fancy dress.”

That stung. She could see the flinch and the draining of blood from his face. She could almost see the wounded puppy-dog eyes he was flashing at her, if only his visor weren’t in the way.

“It’s…Saiyaman…” Embarrassment made his voice barely a whisper. She almost rolled her eyes, but something in the slump of his shoulders and the tilt of his face away from hers made her pause.

Dammit, why did he have to be so cute? He was on her crime scene! Messing up evidence, beating up robbers, generally ruining everything. He was a _nuisance_ . But he wasn’t an _arrogant_ nuisance. Not like the students at her dad’s dojo. The broad shouldered, muscle bound pricks who swaggered up to her. Patted her head condescendingly. Tried to intimidate her with their height and strength and physical presence. Tried to remind her that her place was not among them. Her slight, feminine frame was not welcome in sparring matches. She didn’t belong there.

It didn’t matter how many fights she won. How loose her shirts or how tightly she bound her breasts. How furiously and viciously she defended her right to train with her father. They wouldn’t let her forget her place.

But Saiyaman wasn’t like that. He was an idiot. He danced and posed and swung his cape around like a flashing green target. He barged into her scenes, beat up her perps, messed up her evidence. But he never, ever condescended her. He never patted her head or leaned on her shoulder or put a hand on the curve of her waist. Whenever he spoke to her it was with respect, his voice soft and gentle and touched by a smile. Whenever they fought side by side he was strong and skilled but never hogged the fight. They fought together, as a team.

And no matter how hard he tried to include her, she continued to push him out wherever possible.

They stood silently together, before she sighed and reached out towards him. He flinched away, but she pressed forward and grabbed his hand. Another flurry of camera flashes as she pulled him away from the police tape and into the empty bank.

Behind them the chorus of the journalists reached fever pitch, clamouring and calling out her name with increasing urgency. Now she did roll her eyes, and pulled the costumed young man into the now empty vault.

“Listen, Saiyaman,” she said, spinning around so they were face to face. He was still stepping forward and for a brief moment their bodies were pressed together. Then he moved backwards, definitely flushing now, and resumed his scolded puppy posture.

“I’m listening, Miss Videl,” he said in a low, embarrassed voice.

“Saiyaman, stop whimpering like a puppy and look at me.”

He straightened. By Kami he was tall. She craned her neck to theoretically meet his eyes, though of course the visor obscured them from her vision.

“I’m sorry I keep yelling at you. You just barge in all the time and it’s like...they called _me_ to help, not you.”

“Sorry, Miss Videl,” Saiyaman said. “I just…” He seemed to struggle for a moment. It was odd, in a way, seeing him so lost for words. He was usually so verbose, able to put his thoughts and feelings into words without any difficulty at all. “I just want to help,” he said finally and put his hands up in a helpless gesture.

“I don’t need your help though. You get that, right? I’m totally capable of dealing with this alone.”

“Of course you are.” The sliver of his face that she could see looked appalled. “You’re a great fighter, Videl. I would never, _ever_ doubt that.” He reached out one hand, rested it on her shoulder. “I’d _never_.”

She smiled despite the sting of tears in her eyes. He really meant it. He was so earnest and genuine. It warmed the small insecure spot deep inside that she had worked so hard to eradicate. How stupid that a boy was the one who could soothe that quiet voice. Maybe it was just finally hearing it from someone who wasn’t her father.

“Thank you, Saiyaman,” she said. She stood on her toes, kissed the smooth visor above his cheek. Was vaguely aware of a blush rising in her own cheeks as she lowered her eyes. “Want to help me find the robbers?”

He brightened. Like a sun from behind clouds. His grin warmed her even more and she felt the fluttering in her stomach. Kami damn him for being so _cute_.

**Author's Note:**

> My three words were:
> 
> 'Costumed, Salt, Choked'
> 
> I used the former two (kinda) in that Videl is super salty about all the BS she's been putting up with :P


End file.
